Known facts
by LeDiz
Summary: SHIELD has plenty of reports on Spider-man, but they're all observation. Now, they want the real facts, so they need to ask the people who know him best. His team should fill that role - or at least, you'd think so,


_**Known facts**_

**DISCLAIMER:** Playing, again… you know, a common complaint I've seen is that US is too busy with its humour and those anvilicious aesops to have proper characterisation. Sometimes I suspect the writers are actually doing some really awesome characterisation, but they're hiding it behind Peter's issues a little too well for anyone to notice…

* * *

"You want a report on Spider-man?"

"That's what I said."

The team exchanged blank looks. It was Nova to point out, "Don't you already have, like, a million of those?"

Coulson nodded once, putting his hands in his pockets. SHIELD's files had told them a lot about both Spider-man and Peter Parker, long before any of the team had met him.

The files talked about his abilities, his name, his home. They posited theories on how he'd gotten his powers – ranging from chemical experiment to mutant DNA. They talked about his hero complex and pondered the way some of his powers sometimes seemed to come and go, depending on his mood and the situation.

But that didn't tell them everything.

"Make the reports legible, and I'll even swing you extra credit at school."

"Sweet! I mean, um… okay."

* * *

**STRONG**

The files said Spider-man was strong. Peter waved it off as the "comparative strength of a spider."

Ava frowned at the book in front of her, then up at him. "Which one?"

He was absorbed in his own text book, so she scowled and reached over to slap him on the head. He caught her hand at the last second, then blinked and looked up. "What?"

"Which spider?" she said, and took back her hand to hold up the book. "Different spiders have different strengths – it's not a baseline ratio of one to ten or something like that. Which spider do you match, comparative strength-wise?"

He continued staring at her for a moment. "I haven't exactly checked. Why do you care?"

"Duh. Because if we don't know how strong you are, we won't know what we can expect you to handle!" she cried. "I've seen you hold up a falling building, and yet you couldn't lift a car last week. How does that make sense?"

He blinked again, then smiled. "Maybe it's different spiders at different times. I am all and one. I am the _Ultimate_ Spider-man, master of _all_ arachnids."

"Master of all annoyances, more like," she informed him, and he grinned.

* * *

When she said she was going out, the guys had all judged her expression and announced they would be spending the night in. Just like how, all through the school day, when she'd come close, they'd made tracks.

For that, at least, Ava was grateful. Today was not a day to be around her, or the White Tiger.

But still, sitting here alone on a crane, staring out over the docks…

"The concrete jungle, huh?" a voice commented, and she clenched her eyes shut, snarling under her breath. The voice didn't even pause. "Not quite the one you're looking for, I bet."

"Leave me alone," she growled, but Spider-man still dropped down beside her, crane barely swinging with his added weight.

"I could do that," he said, "but I won't. Not when my friends need me."

"I don't need you. I'm just –"

"Upset. The guys told me. Sorry I wasn't around today. Crime kinda got the better of me," he said, and tilted his head. "Something happen?"

"You wouldn't under-" She stopped, remembering the story he'd told her. His uncle. She sighed heavily. "Today's a… today's an anniversary. A bad one."

"Oh," he said. It was all he said.

He shuffled closer though, so his leg pushed against her arm, and she glared at him. "I said I don't need you. Or your pity. We've had this discussion, Spider-man, I don't want –"

"It sucks."

She stared, but the plastic lenses of his mask didn't even shift. He stared right back.

"It sucks, and I'm sorry. And I'm sorry I didn't know. That I wasn't around today. That I'm not going away now. Call me selfish," he said, with just a hint of his usual humour, but it quickly faded. "Once, I went after a bad guy when someone really important to me was hurting. And even though I was hurting too, and at the time, I thought I needed to go after that guy – get revenge… I should've stayed with her. I've never forgiven myself for that. So when I see someone hurting… like I see you hurting now… I don't leave. I'm sorry."

She continued staring at him for a long few seconds, before she abruptly reached up and yanked off the mask. Without that comforting spandex, the yellow tint of her lenses, the strength of the White Tiger… she was just her. And she couldn't take it. She grit her teeth as the tears welled up, but kept her eyes on his, daring him to deal with them. With her. Sure, he could talk the talk, but she _knew_ him. Talk was all he had. He couldn't handle real emotions. Everyone knew –

Suddenly, there was a foot against her far hip, a leg around her back, another curled around her own, and two strong arms pulling her into a warm chest. Without moving, she had become curled in his embrace, hidden from a world she just couldn't deal with right now.

The White Tiger was strong, powerful, controlled…

Despite herself, Ava squeezed her eyes shut, pushed into his breast bone, and sobbed like a little girl.

Spider-man just lay his head on hers and curled his arms tighter around her shoulders. "It sucks, I know. I'm sorry."

She didn't know how long he held her, or how long those tears she'd held back went for. But when it was done, she felt better, and still he didn't say anything. He just let her go when she pulled back, and nodded when she put the mask back on.

"Need a ride back upstairs?" he asked, and waited for her to shake her head before shrugging. "Okay. Look, I'm kinda late for curfew, but you know, I have a couch if you wanna surf."

If she wanted to talk, more like. She smiled, brushing her hand against the wet stain on his costume, and shook her head. "I'm… well, not good, but… I'll see you tomorrow, web-head."

"Sure." But all he did was flip around to hang from the top of the crane, watching and waiting for her to turn and begin the run back to one of their transport pods. She was pretty sure he waited until she was gone, just in case.

* * *

**WALL-CRAWLER**

The file had noted Spider-man's ability to stick to surfaces, and how he could do it through shoes, gloves, and a few other impossibilities.

It did not mention he didn't have to put any effort into keeping his body straight, or that he barely noticed he was doing it.

"Dude, stop that. You're making me wanna puke," Sam complained, but Peter, currently making his way across the ceiling with his fist against his mouth, deep in thought, didn't even pause. Sam continued scowling at him, and contemplated throwing something before deciding to give it another shot. "Parker! You take the short bus home today or something?"

That, at least, got his attention. Peter tilted his head back and glared. "Morons say what?"

"Dude, seriously. Gravity! Have you heard of it?"

Peter blinked, then smirked and turned around to walk back to him, twisting so he never once broke eye contact. "This from a guy that can fly with the power of a sun?"

"Ugh. Doesn't that make you sick? All the blood should like, go to your head, right?"

"Aw, am I making you uncomfortable, Sammy?" he asked, and then dropped, flipping as he went to land directly in front of him, where he leaned in with a nasty grin. "Spider, remember? We crawl on walls. A lot."

"Ugh. You're just creepy, is all," he shot back.

* * *

Oh, this was bad, this was bad, this was very, very bad.

If he was honest, Sam knew he should have seen this coming. New York was known for its crime. Not just its super-villain crime, but also the petty thefts, muggings, gang-bangs… everything else under the sun… But Sam had always figured that when he got involved with the New York crime scene, it would be because Nova was stopping it – not because he was jumped in a dark alley.

It wasn't fair. The _one time_ he'd left his helmet in his locker.

And he didn't even have much in the way of money on him! Tech, yeah, he had loads of tech, but most of it your average bad guy wouldn't know what to do with!

"That's, it, kid, nice and easy," Idiot-on-the-right said, holding out his knife with, sadly, very good technique. "Empty your pockets and take 'em off."

"Take them…" He near-freaked, until he realised the knife was gesturing toward his shoes. "What? You want my _sneakers_?" Oh this was so lame! He was getting mugged for his shoes?!

"Nice pair o' shoes like that," Idiot-on-the-left said lazily, "my kid brother could really use them on the court."

"Aw, isn't that a touching story? Shopping for the family!"

All three bad guys flinched, but Sam only blinked, then internally groaned. Of all the heroes in all the world… He was never gonna live this down.

But there was no dark shape dropping out of the shadows. Nothing swinging down from above. Not even a reassuring shadow sauntering down the alley toward them. Just a voice from nowhere.

"You heard that, right?" Idiot-in-the-middle-with-the-gun whispered to his friends. "That voice."

"Spider-man," Idiot-on-the-right mumbled. "It was Spider-man."

A very distinct _thwip-thwip_ cut through the noise of the city, but only Sam, who knew to always look up first, saw the webs cover the gap between buildings, less than a metre above their heads. He didn't see the spider, though.

"You sure?" Idiot-on-the-left asked nervously.

"Damn sure. He nabbed me last year – had me strung up for an hour before the cops cut me down. I'd know that son of a –"

A web shot out of the darkness over Sam's shoulder, plastering over the man's mouth. "Language, boys. Kids could be listening." Then another two webs criss-crossed against the mouth of the alley, sealing them in. The bad guys pulled in tight together, staring around with wide eyes, but Sam just lifted his gaze to the top web, past which he could now see Spider-man casually slinging his way across the wall, hand over toe. When he finally planted his feet, he stuck, and swung himself over so he was crouching horizontally.

"Ooh, shiny. Mind if I help myself?"

That was all the warning the bad guys got before webs slashed out and attached themselves to the gun and Idiot-on-the-right's knife. The last bad guy, given extra time, managed to pull his knife away, but all that meant was that the web caught his hip instead, and he was yanked off the ground. A second later and he was stuck to the web ceiling. Spider-man crawled down over him and peered over his shoulder at the other two. Sam could practically see the smirk behind the mask.

"So… you guys gonna try and run? Only, I'm not sure where you'll run to and to be honest, I think I'm more equipped for a chase scene than you guys," Spider-man said lightly, and a passing cab made the lenses in his eyes flash.

Then the idiots made the mistake of lunging for Sam.

To his credit, Sam took out Idiot-in-the-middle-without-his-gun with a few well-placed surprise punches. Spider-man flattened the other one in web and waited for Sam to get his frustration out before sticking the gun-nut, too.

Then he pulled out a hole in the exit web and let Sam head back to school for his helmet, disappearing in silence.

At least until they were on the tricarrier the next day. Then he really let Nova have it.

* * *

**SMART**

One or two files mentioned that Peter Parker was, according to gospel, the smartest kid at his school. His grades previous to becoming Spider-man were, quite simply, ridiculously good, and it was a recorded fact that Ozcorp., Stark Industries, and even Reed Richards had looked at him for internships.

It would be annoying, but Luke had always thought smarts came from studying, and so brilliant kids like Peter would have to put in the effort. That was why he didn't feel so bad about his average grades – he didn't care about school. Especially not these days.

"Yo, Pete, good to see you're still in class," Luke said, slapping him on the back as he found Peter walking down the halls. "Did you do the chem homework?"

"Yeah," he said absently, staring at the papers in his hand. "No, you can't copy."

"That's cool, man, I figured you'd say that. Wanna compare answers?"

Peter glanced at him knowingly. "No."

He grinned back. Much as he hated doing his own homework, he could appreciate that Peter took the time to do his on top of everything else he did, and so expected the same of his team. You had to do the work to be smart. "What're you looking at?"

"English pop quiz. Didn't do so great," he said, flipping it around to show him the bright red 'seventy-nine' in the corner. "Teach me to only read the cliff-notes instead of the book."

"You didn't even do the reading and you still got eighty?" he demanded. "Dude, is there anything you're not brilliant at?"

"Gym."

He levelled that with the look Peter and his obsessive secret identity hiding deserved. Peter just laughed and took the paper back. "Come on, I promised MJ I'd meet her for lunch. Any idea what they're serving today?"

"Good to know there's other stuff you don't know, too."

* * *

"And it's up!" Spider-man announced, sounding every bit the two-bit commentator even as Doctor Octopus lunged for his head. He dodged almost casually, eyes on the electrical generator they were playing keep-away with together with the good doctor. Powerman had just pitched it long through the warehouse, and it was currently on a collision course with the far wall. "And it looks good! But it could be a foul ball, folks, so let's go to the outfield to see how it plays!"

"Do you ever shut up?!" Doctor Octopus demanded, only to get a kick to the face that knocked him back and onto his lower arms. The kick had the added benefit of launching Spider-man up into the railings, where he shot out a web and started slinging after the generator.

"Sorry, that's not in my contract. I do however do an incredible coaching call. Powerman, back to the home plate!"

"Hope it's okay that I brought my own bat!" Powerman said, grabbing a support beam to swipe the Octopus's arms out from under him.

"Aw, come on!" Spider-man called over his shoulder, already level with the generator. "That move was totally asking for an 'and he's outta here' joke!"

"What? I thought I was batting," he said, and slammed his fist into Doctor Octopus' chest to keep him down. "Wouldn't that be fielding?"

"What, is switching positions not kosher in a friendly? Sorry, my casual baseball knowledge kinda stinks," he said as he caught the generator in a web and twisted around to land on and then bounce off the nearest support beam. He ended up crouched sideways on a pole, balancing the generator on one finger. "Didn't exactly play team sports so good when I was a kid."

"Yeah, I bet you didn't. So, what do we do with – _ohh_!" he yelled, anything else cut off by the mechanical arm slamming into his gut. It snatched hold of his shirt, and then yanked him up, over, and down into the floor so hard he made craters. Once, twice, and would have gone for a third if a much smaller hand hadn't grabbed the back of his costume and hauled him out of the robotic grip. It was kind of undignified, especially when Spider-man hit a support beam and scaled it one-handed, the other still holding him like a cat with her kitten, but Powerman couldn't complain when he was deposited on a railing to nurse his aching everything. He looked up to thank him, but Spider-man just held up a finger, exaggerating his wink so it could be seen through the mask.

"Hold that thought. If you see an opening, jump back on in," he said, before flipping back to Doctor Octopus.

Unfortunately, Powerman wasn't given time to get back in the game – it was all over in another sixty seconds. Spider-man was strong, flexible, and not afraid to take advantage of Doctor Octopus' rage to make him stupid. All Powerman had to do was climb back down as Spider-man tied Octopus up like a creepy piñata.

"Hey, thanks for the save, man," he said, and Spider-man held out a fist to bump, the other still spinning webs. Powerman met him happily, but then shifted his weight back on his hips, folded his arms, and took a moment to appreciate the situation. Moments like this were always kind of humbling – scrawny little Spider-man showing up the bigger, stronger heroes with a smart mouth and a little spider strength.

But… then, now he was looking, Spider-man wasn't really that scrawny, was he? Definitely smaller than even Iron Fist, but hardly the pencil-necked geek he seemed in his civvies. If you were judging on the muscle alone, he could have easily been a track-star. Or even a football player, in the right position.

Well… actually… it wasn't like Powerman made a habit of looking at guys' bodies that closely, but Spider-man was… really fit. Toned. The guy had very obvious muscles. And with his obsession for shirts rolled up to the elbows, it wasn't like Peter Parker went out of his way to hide them.

So why did everyone, Powerman included, think of him as scrawny?

"Now there's a game prize," Spider-man announced as he finished tying off his web-sack. He flipped back down to stand beside Powerman and looked up at Doctor Octopus with mock pride, before he flinched and grabbed something from his waist line. "Man, this SHIELD stuff is going to my head! I almost forgot the gift card."

He threw his business card—Courtesy of your friendly neighbourhood SPIDER-MAN—and then turned away, lifting a hand in farewell. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a hot date with a lame book. I'll see you back at the ranch."

He took off with a graceful jog that turned into a hop, and then a highly acrobatic somersault as he shot a web and swung off into the dark. Powerman just stared after him, completely stuck on how Spider-man's body could possibly exist inside scrawny little Peter Parker.

* * *

**SPIDER-SENSE**

The files made a very big deal about the spider-sense. They weren't sure whether it was a psychic ability, precognition, or just very good spatial awareness. Either way, they wanted to know more about it.

Danny, however, knew better than to pry too much into his teammates' lives and abilities. Peter in particular was very touchy about privacy, and Danny would gladly go out of his way to keep _that_ relationship on steady ground.

Still, there were times when—

"Shut _up_, Spider-sense! I know the laser is there!"

— these things just came up.

"I don't want to talk about it," Peter groused as he stalked into the common room. "It's been on overdrive all day, and it hasn't shut up, and I swear, if it tells me one more time that the tricarrier might crash and/or implode, I am going to –" Peter stopped, gripped his head, and promptly screamed. "Shut _up_!"

Danny considered the situation for a few moments, then very quietly closed his book and tried to look calming. "It isn't something you control?"

"What? No. It's like a…" Peter stopped again, shot Danny a wary look, then scrubbed at the back of his head with both hands. "It's just a danger sense. That's all. Can we not talk about it?"

He considered again, then nodded once and stood up. "I'll leave you alone, then."

"Oh, no, Danny, I didn't…" He rubbed at his face, then nodded. "Yeah. Thanks."

* * *

"Now, son, I don't think you're supposed to be in here."

Iron Fist gasped and spun around, then stopped, and stared at the old man moving out of the shadows. He looked familiar, but the strange haze surrounding them meant that it wasn't until he was less than a metre away before he recognised him.

"Ben," he said, letting his fists drop. "Peter's Uncle Ben. You're a manifestation of his memory of you."

"And a few other things," he admitted. "You make it a habit of taking joy rides in people's heads, Mr Rand?"

He blinked, not least because he was wearing his mask. While other members of the team often slipped and called each other by name, Spider-man was never that careless. He hadn't expected to be called by name while visiting Peter's sub-conscious, let alone his surname. But training overcoming shock, he quickly shook it off and bowed politely. Peter held his uncle in unusually high esteem, so he knew it would be a bad idea to disrespect his manifestation. "Forgive my intrusion. Peter's spider-sense has been causing him a great deal of distress today. SHIELD thought it best if we addressed the problem before it caused him further difficulties."

"Uh huh. And did Peter know what you were planning when he agreed to meditate with you?"

Something brushed against Iron Fist's senses, like a figure brushing past his back at a run. He turned his head slightly, subtly checking their surroundings. Between the haze and the darkness of the mind, he saw nothing, but kept his sense on high alert as he refocussed on Ben. "I admit to my deception, mild though it was. Peter _is_ practising his meditation, allowing his mind to become still –"

"And easier to navigate," Ben surmised, folding his arms with a smirk. "You don't know my boy too well, do you?"

This time, Iron Fist saw the shadow flicker behind Ben's shoulder before darting out of sight again. He narrowed his eyes. "Forgive me, I don't understand."

"I made the mistake of leaving my head open once before." The voice was slightly familiar – it wasn't until Iron Fist turned to meet Peter's gaze that he really recognised it. It was lower than he usually spoke, darker and heavier, matching the aggressive posture and folded arms. Peter tilted his head forward and didn't smile. "I don't do that so much anymore."

"Are you referring to Venom?" Iron Fist asked slowly. He'd thought he'd meet Spider-man, not –

"Sure, let's go with that," another, lighter voice agreed. Iron Fist slowly moved his head to see Spider-man on his other side, hanging from a web out of the dark overhead. When Iron Fist looked back, Peter was gone. So was Ben, come to think of it. A distraction technique, designed to disorient. Very clever, for one untrained in the spiritual arts. He went back to Spider-man, who chuckled, the dark tone back. "Careful, Iron Fist. Psychoanalysis can be quite the mind-field."

"I'm sorry," Peter said, stepping out from behind him again. "That was bad, even for me."

"Hey, here's a thought. Just putting it out there," Spider-man said, slinging his way in and out of the darkness. "You might want to get out of my head."

Iron Fist tightened his fists, refusing to be distracted. "I am here to help you, Spider-man. I know power can be a burden. But it is one you do not have to shoulder alone."

"_Awww!_" echoed out from everywhere, but all Iron Fist saw was a glimpse of a dark shape and large white eyes. "You know, if you could crochet, I bet you'd made a whole buck off that on a pillow."

"Your spider-sense is overwhelming you," he insisted. "We only wish to –"

"It's called guarana," Peter said, like he was spelling out the obvious.

"I drank an energy drink," added another Peter, this one wearing glasses and much less muscle.

"It was a really bad idea," Spider-man finished.

"What is guarana?" Iron Fist asked cautiously, and the glasses-Peter appeared long enough to helpfully explain.

"It's a mental stimulate. It contains a highly condensed form of caffeine, along with multiple other chemicals. Perfectly legal, which is why it's in some energy drinks, but, for me –"

"It makes my spider-sense go a bit nuts," another voice whispered in Iron Fist's ear, but when he spun around, there was nothing there.

He swallowed hard, trying to remember that he was in Peter's mind. He was safe. Peter wouldn't hurt him, and even if he did, he was the one in control. He had the spiritual training. Peter was –

"So, again with the suggestion," Spider-man said, swinging down into his line of sight, "of you leaving my head. Would be much appreciated."

"Please and thank you!" Peter called.

"_Now_," the voice hissed, and he spun around again.

"Why?" he demanded of the darkness. "Why do you want me to leave so much?"

"Well, there's the whole personal space issue," Peter listed, holding up a finger.

"The trust issues," Peter-with-glasses added, ticking off another finger.

"The anger issues," Spider-man pointed out, waving his three fingers playfully.

"And, of course, the problem with you holding Peter's conscious mind away from his body," Ben continued, walking out of the darkness with his hands in his pockets. "Because if his conscious is absorbed with keeping you safe, and his subconscious is busy talking to you, there's only one thing left for his body to rely on."

Iron Fist frowned, pulling his shoulders back. They hadn't covered this in his training. "You're implying that it would not just remain still, as most do."

"'Most' is relative, and Peter has what you might call an active set of instincts," Ben said, before the breathy voice chuckled in Iron Fist's ear again and Ben disappeared.

This time, when he turned, he was able to meet the white gaze of the black figure. It looked a little like Spider-man, a little like Venom, but also something else. Something wild. He narrowed his eyes again. "Are you Peter's dark side?"

"You don't want to see my dark side," it said breathlessly. "And you're missing the obvious. I'm running on guarana. My conscious and sub-conscious are preoccupied. All I have left is instincts. Hyped-up on guarana spider-senses. Which don't feel safe on this carrier."

Not following, Iron Fist decided it was best to just retreat for now. He had an explanation, strange though it was. He could just – his thoughts froze as he opened his eyes and discovered Luke and Ava sprawled beside him, groaning painfully. Webs covered half the room. The door was hitched diagonally across its opening.

_All I have left is… spider-senses… which don't feel safe…_

"Oh…" Iron Fist got to his feet, hoping Peter's conscious mind had returned at the same time he had. "Oops."

"_Crap!_"

He didn't even time to recognise the shout before Spider-man leapt past the broken door like his life depended on it. "I'm sorry, Fury! I didn't mean to! I don't know what happened! Sorry! Move, agents! I'm a wanted spider and you're in the way!"

He continued yelling apologies and swearing all the way down the hall. After a few moments, Fury appeared in the doorway, and glared at Iron Fist over the broken remains. "I told you to sort out what was going on in that screwed up head of his. Not _remove_ him from it for twenty minutes."

"Uh…" Iron Fist cringed, rubbing the back of his head. "I'll clean up the mess?"

Fury just glared, promising that wasn't all he would be doing to make up for this.

* * *

**RESPONSIBLE**

The files didn't put it quite so succinctly, but Peter had a phrase that he would use, on and off, which drove the rest of them just a little bit nuts: "With great power comes great responsibility".

In practice, or as far as the files were concerned, that meant that all you had to do was imply that Peter was capable of taking care of something—anything—and he would go miles out of his way to take care of it.

"Because we have powers that most people don't," he lectured as he threw their costumes in the washing machine. They were gathered in the basement, all in borrowed robes, pyjamas or lounge clothes, because the costumes Peter had just thrown in the wash were covered in what they were all pointedly calling slime or sludge. Not sewage. "Other people can't do what we can – fight the fights we do. But someone has to."

"Yeah, but there are other heroes out there," Sam complained. He was taking the fact they'd just chased the Vulture halfway through the city's… water system… very personally, despite the fact that it was White Tiger, Powerman, and Iron Fist that had actually been running in it for most of the afternoon. "Especially in New York. Can't we just… let them handle it, some days?"

Peter's quick look was dark. "No one's making you do anything, Sam."

"You just said –"

"So give it up," he shot back. "Your power comes from your helmet. No one's making you wear it."

He stiffened, shoulders moving back defensively. "I'm a part of the Nova Corps! The only line of resistance against some of the biggest bads in the galaxy!"

"Can't someone else handle it?" Luke echoed dryly. Sam glared at him, but he just shrugged, both palms in the air. "You said it, not me. I think Peter's right. You have power, you should do something with it."

Ava frowned, shifting her weight onto one hip and propping her fist on it, the other hand flicking idly as she considered. "Yeah, sure, but there's a difference between fighting the good fight and running yourself ragged," she pointed out. "Not talking about today, so much, but really, Peter, when was the last time you took a day off from being Spider-man?"

"Aw, was that concern I hear?" he teased, but amazingly, Ava didn't take the bait.

"Seriously. You take time out from SHIELD, but name one week in the last year when you haven't worn the costume."

"With the mask," Danny clarified. "When you haven't fought crime."

"Uh, does kicking professional wrestlers around a cage count as 'fighting crime'?" he asked, and hopped up to crouch on top of the washing machine. It was a habit he didn't usually let out as Peter Parker, and looked slightly more unnatural because of it. "Because if not, then I've got plenty of civilian time to my name."

"And he has school, a life outside it," Luke said, apparently playing the support card. "There's nothing wrong with being dedicated."

"Dedicated _whatever_," complained Sam. "I do my job. I'm just saying that when it comes to second-string criminals like bird-man today, it wouldn't hurt to let someone else take it once in a while. Cops exist for a reason."

"So, what, you want to pick and choose your heroics?" asked Peter. "Only fighting the big names, like the Green Goblin, Magneto, Dr Doom, whatever?"

"Well, yeah," he said blankly. "Not because it's cool, or whatever – I mean, I don't exactly like getting my butt handed to me by those guys. But like you said, we have a lot of power, right? So shouldn't we only use that power against people who can take it?"

"The Vulture isn't exactly your standard bank robber," he argued. "If you fought him on your own –"

"Yeah, yeah, it'd be a different story. But we're a team. Of five super-powered, kick-butt heroes! We should be focussing on bigger targets!"

Ava tilted her head toward him, then Peter. "When he puts it like that, it does sound a bit like bullying."

"Yes," Danny agreed. "And you, Peter, do not limit your targets to super-villains. You also hunt petty thieves and street criminals."

He narrowed his eyes. "So you think I should just let them pass? That I should just turn a blind eye?"

"No one's saying that," Luke said quickly, but the other three exchanged glances that told a different story.

"We've all got a lot of power, and, like you say, that comes with responsibility," Ava pointed out. "And sometimes, that responsibility needs to be about not picking on people weaker than you. Even when they're not good people."

Peter gazed back at them for a few moments, then shook his head and cartwheeled off the washer to head up the stairs. "Sorry, kids. I don't turn blind eyes. Not anymore."

* * *

It was supposed to be a simple mission. Go to the underwater base, deal with any mooks, collect the data, get out. It was even going relatively smoothly. Spider-man was antsy, but that wasn't entirely unusual given the coffee they'd seen him drink this morning, and none of them were exactly thrilled with being trapped several hundred feet underwater, but such were the perils of superheroes.

But then Deadpool showed up.

"Hey, team!" he cried, waving his arms over his head. "So amazing to see you! What are y'all doin' down here? Oh, wait, don't tell me you're here for the super-secret bad guy research o'doom too! Hah! What a coincidence!"

"Yeah, you're a little late." Spider-man dropped from the ceiling and put out a hand, extended away from his body and back toward the rest of the team. "We got what we came for. You guys head on back to the ship."

"What? What's the rush?" White Tiger asked with a chuckle. "And when Deadpool just showed up?"

"Yeah, we could take this whole place now, with him here!" agreed Nova.

"How are you, man?" asked Powerman.

"Guys." Spider-man's tone was flatter than they'd heard in a long time. "You have a mission. Complete it."

"Ooh, I think he's trying to be possessive, well, ain't that just so adorable! He's really taking on the whole 'team leader' thing!" Deadpool squealed, and bounced over to wrap his arms around Spider-man's shoulders. "But you know, I'm being paid an _aw_-ful lot of money to make sure that research gets up to the surface and into the right hands, so maybe we should just ignore him, whaddaya say, guys? And by the way, I love the idea of taking out the whole base. I say we do a run-through, all five of us together, and have a grand old time!"

"Five?" Iron Fist repeated, but Spider-man shoved Deadpool off him and turned to point, all clenched fists and serious attitude.

"Call it an order! Get back to the ship and get out of here!" he snapped, then jumped as Deadpool tried to sweep his legs out from under him. Once he was on the ceiling, he flipped so he was attached by his feet and pointed again. "Go!"

"No, no, let's stay and play!" Deadpool insisted, only to have his feet caught in a web-net and send him crashing to the floor. He grunted, then held up a hand and sang, "That wasn't very ni-ice!"

The team hesitated, but at one last look from Spider-man, Powerman turned and shoved the others onward. "He's right; we've got our orders and we need to complete the mission. We can catch up later – let's go!"

"I said stay!" Deadpool snarled and threw out an arm, but whatever he tossed was caught up in another web, and when Nova and White Tiger glanced back, it was to see Spider-man drop down again, his back to them and hiding their view of Deadpool completely.

They made it back to the tricarrier without incident, and given the successful mission, Fury wasn't even that upset to see Spider-man missing. Or at least, he wasn't upset until after they explained _why_ Spider-man had bailed on the debriefing.

"Deadpool was there?" he demanded.

"Yeah. And Spider-man got all weird about it," said Nova. "Wouldn't even let us talk to him. Just ordered us to complete the mission."

"It was strange," Iron Fist agreed quietly. "Spider-man is not usually possessive of us. I didn't think he would keep us from an old teammate like that."

But, even if they had been able to make sense of it, Fury was no longer listening. He was punching at his communicator, and when it apparently didn't give him what he wanted, he turned and pointed at Coulson. "Spider-man's location. I want it now. Status, if you can get it."

"But location first," he acknowledged, nodding to an agent on the computer console. The team exchanged glances, but knew better than to say anything until Fury had at least one of the answers he wanted. After a few moments, Coulson read the screen and nodded. "In transit. We think in a transport duck."

"Does it have a secure signal?"

"Yes. And it – incoming," he said, a moment before touching a button and opening a holographic image of Spider-man behind a wheel, his suit sliced up and one glove missing, the web shooter twisted and mangled on his wrist.

He lifted his uncovered hand from the wheel and waved, not bothering to look at the communicator. "Hey there. The guys make it back okay?"

"They did, with cargo. We heard you had a run-in with Deadpool."

"Yeah, that was fun. I'll fill you in on my adventures in crazy-town tomorrow. I borrowed this super-cool car-boat thing from the bad guys, but it doesn't go too fast. I'll be pushing curfew even if I go straight home, and it is a school night, after all."

"Negative, Spider-man. We're tracking your location now. We can have a jet to you in ten minutes."

"Or you can brief us now," Fury interjected, and Spider-man's head twitched as he finally looked at them. The pause dragged out just long enough to be noticeable.

But after the awkward beat, he just flung his hand dismissively. "Sorry, Nick, I can't be seen talking on a cell phone while in control of a vehicle. Haven't you heard that's not safe? Kids could be watching, and you know how I hate to be a bad influence. But hey, maybe we can catch up later. Get coffee. All that jazz. Toodles!"

And then he abruptly switched off the communication. When Coulson ordered the agent to get it back, she reported that the system seemed to be offline. "I think he… destroyed it after he hung up on us."

"Wow. He really didn't want to debrief," Nova chuckled, but immediately stopped when it made both Fury and Coulson look at him like he'd pointed out a major flaw in one of their plans. He dropped out of the air to sidle in behind Powerman, but in the end, Coulson only rubbed the bridge of his nose and Fury let out a soft breath.

"You're dismissed, team," he said. "Take tomorrow off."

* * *

**LIAR**

Everyone knew Spider-man was a liar. You had to be, to keep a secret identity the way he could.

But that didn't make it okay.

"So what was up with Deadpool?" asked Luke. "Something happen with you guys, or…?"

"Me? Deadpool? Hah, no." Peter focussed very intently on the pavement under his feet. "No, we just… just cleared the base. Gave him something he could take back to his employer."

Ava leaned forward, trying to catch his eye with her glare. "You should've let us stay. We could've done it easier, and with us there to help, you probably wouldn't have gotten that," she added, pointing at his bandaged wrist. Peter shrugged vaguely – he was passing off the injury as tendonitis, mostly to cover the electrical burn on the top side of his wrist.

"Okay, so forget Deadpool. How'd it go with Fury?" asked Sam. "He was pretty ticked when you didn't report in."

"It was fine. I think he's getting used to me being a wise-ass," he said cheerfully, either not noticing or not caring about the tension radiating from his team.

In response, they stopped walking, and after a few steps, he did, too. But he didn't turn around, or otherwise acknowledge what a jerk he was being.

"You know, you don't have to keep everything from us," Danny said slowly. "We are your team. We understand you have difficulty following Fury's orders, and while we may not always share your ideals, that doesn't mean you have to hide your reasons from us."

Still, he didn't turn. "Don't know what you're talking about."

"Then let us make it clear," Ava snapped. "What we'd really like, Peter? Is if you shared _anything_ with us. We're your team. We shouldn't have to learn everything about you from a file! You should trust us. Like we trust you!"

* * *

Fury looked from the two reports on his screen, up to where Spider-man was lounged on the wall playing with a balled up web, and then back to the reports.

His eye lingered on the newer report, which detailed, in a long and rambling fashion, how Spider-man had completely ignored Nova's very reasonable suggestion to set off minor pressure release points in the volcano base they'd attacked last week, preferring to take his own advice and try to shut off the problem at its core. Then he went back to the older report, which detailed (in a crisp, no-nonsense fashion) Spider-man's refusal to let Nova sacrifice himself or risk the safety of the base's staff. His eye flicked between two very similar paragraphs, where Nova went against orders and created the vents anyway. One noted several severe injuries among the base maintenance staff, who had been working on the tunnels Nova used to make his vents. The other made no mention of them.

"So, tell me again, Spider-man," he said coolly, lacing his fingers over his lap. "How the… how do you put it? 'Day was saved'?"

"It was all Nova, in the end," he said lazily. "Guy really pulled it off this time. Who would've thought he'd know enough about physics to know how to get that volcano eruption to a manageable level? Or, who knows? Maybe it was just dumb luck."

"Maybe. But you know enough about science that you should have known it would work."

"Yeah, but…" He hesitated, then twisted around so he was crouched sideways, facing Fury. "Okay, so I screwed up. Again. I thought if I just took out the central switchboard, the base would quit stirring up the magma, and worst-case scenario, we could put the lid on it, containing the eruption within the base. I was trying to show you I could be focussed, and in the end, I guess I just… focussed a little too hard. I should've listened to my teammate. I'm sorry."

"Uh huh. And the base staff?"

"Yeah, I let them escape," he snapped, the roll of his eyes practically audible. "Another screw up. I thought you'd be all crazy-prepared and be waiting for them when they came out! You know, I'm not the only one that's supposed to be making this partnership work, Nick. You gotta hold up your end of the deal, too."

He ignored that. It was getting easier as time went on. "To confirm what you wrote in this embarrassment you called a report," he said, watching carefully for a reaction, "despite your mistakes, there were no injuries."

"Well, except for Mysterio and Rhino, yeah. Me and Nova injured them up pretty good. But yeah, no one else, far as I know. Why, is Nova saying something different? Is he okay?" he asked, then pulled back. "Wait, he's not talking about me, is he? Because so help me, Nick, if I need to catalogue every last bump and bruise I get doing the super-hero thing, my reports are gonna get a lot longer and _load_ less frequent, just so you know."

Fury considered him for a long time. Although he was good with misdirection and evasion, neither Peter Parker nor Spider-man were good at bald-faced lies. You wouldn't always know what he was hiding – just that he was hiding something.

But he would have to know about the injured employees – he hadn't helped anyone escape, but the report from both Nova and the security footage said Spider-man had told Nova 'no' specifically because of the potential human collateral.

And here he was saying that not only had he told Nova not to vent the pressure for a completely different reason, but that no one had gotten hurt at all.

And he didn't look like he was lying. Fury was willing to bet he didn't think he was.

Not to Fury, anyway.

That was a dangerous habit he'd have to keep an eye on, he realised.

* * *

**LONER**

Spider-man didn't do well with team-ups. He'd met the Fantastic Four, exchanged acknowledging nods with a few X-Men, and was passingly familiar with pretty much everyone in the superhero community, but before SHIELD recruited him, it was a well-documented fact that he did not team up well.

As Peter very pointedly turned away from their group and led Mary-Jane and Harry outdoors for lunch, Ava clenched her teeth. "What, does he think he's too good for us, or something?"

"He's being such a jerk lately," Sam agreed, stabbing his meatloaf.

Danny and Luke exchanged glances, but said nothing. It hurt, but they could accept the rejection, quiet though it was.

Peter Parker had never asked for their friendship.

* * *

Not for the first time, Flash Thompson found himself hiding as, outside, Spider-man fought some freaky genetically engineered weirdo. This time, he'd been locked in the theatre dressing room, and found himself thinking about the last time a bad guy had attacked the school theatre. And that made him think about Peter Parker, taking a few minutes before curtain to hit him hard with a few home truths.

Even now, Flash scoffed at the idea. Of all the people in all the world to give anyone a lecture about how he acted around other people…

Flash had grown up with Peter Parker. They'd been best friends in preschool – Peter had even given him his nick-name, and was usually nice enough not to tell anyone why.

These days, they tried their best to avoid dealing with each other. Flash was a jock, Peter was a nerd. Flash liked being the big man on campus, and Peter seemed to like getting shoved in lockers… or, at least, he preferred getting shoved in lockers more than seeing someone else get it. And even though Flash had kind of made a deal with himself not to pick on Parker anymore, he had also started trying to avoid letting Peter see him pick on anyone else.

It was his way of acknowledging the more aggressive attitude Peter had rediscovered.

And man, was it an attitude.

Most people were surprised at how Peter was acting around these new friends of his, but if anyone had asked Flash, he could have told them it was typical Parker.

Peter wasn't nearly as quiet and mousy as he pretended to be. He also wasn't as much of a jerk as he acted around those new friends of his. Peter just liked to keep people at a distance, because he liked to pretend that meant he didn't care about them so much. He'd done the same thing to Flash back in elementary school, and Flash did the same to him. By the time they officially went their separate ways, Flash dedicating himself to sports and coolness, Peter was so far gone that he was able to let it go with a shrug and a lame joke.

He'd tried to do the same to everyone after his uncle died, but between Flash calling him out and Mary-Jane just plain sticking around, he hadn't been able to get away with it. Flash might not have liked Puny Parker, but… no one really deserved to do that to themselves.

Peter had this… weird little world he lived in. He talked to himself in his head, all the time, weighing up every situation and statement and carefully deciding how to respond. Flash knew the jokes came thicker and faster when Peter got scared or uncomfortable, and that if you saw him _look_ scared it was because he wanted you to, not because he felt it. You saw him look _anything_ and it was because he wanted you to.

That said, he was a nice guy, just not as weak as he seemed. He cared. Cared a lot. And that, really, was his problem. He cared so much that it had long since screwed him up in the head, and if his friends—any of them, new or old—really put in the time to care, they'd know they needed to fix him before he went kablooey all over Manhattan. Because if Flash was any judge, it was definitely coming.

Flash knew all that. He could've told anyone who asked.

He winced as something—probably Spider-man, knowing the hero's luck—slammed hard into the wall outside, jerking him out of his thoughts. What was he doing? Who had time to worry about Parker right now? Spider-man was the only thing worth paying attention to!

* * *

Fury raised an eyebrow at the reports Coulson handed him. "Spider-man analysis?"

"Yeah. Nothing out of the ordinary," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "They barely touch on Parker, and it's only a little more than we got through observation. He may have warmed up to the team, but they're either keeping his secrets close to their chests, or he's just not opening up to them."

"I'm inclined to say it's the latter, with a little of the former," Fury noted, flicking through the files. "Shame we don't have someone that really knows the kid but would still be willing to tell us what we need to know."

Coulson shrugged. "He's a teenager, hero, and he's definitely no Tony Stark. I'm not sure anyone like that exists."

Fury hummed in his throat, tossed the file in his in-tray, and they both went back to work.

A mystery for another day.

* * *

_Other times, I think I'm just giving the writers too much credit._


End file.
